Freedom
by songstobesung
Summary: Kurt knows why Blaine sings.


_For the caged bird_  
_sings of freedom_

_-Maya Angelou "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings"_

* * *

Kurt has always had a passion for singing. It opens up a part of him, trills flying from his mouth. He never really wanted to go into a professional singing career, however; He just liked to sing. He remembers once, a boy who was a little older than he, who had curly hair and hazel eyes.

This boy was nine when Kurt met him. He had come to the Hummel residence to have voice lessons from Kurt's mother, Emily Hummel. Emily taught the boy how to sing _fortissimo_, which means very loud, and _pianissimo_, which means very soft. Emily taught this little boy how to sing high and low, strong and weak, and everything in between. Kurt always liked listening to this boy sing, more than he cared to say.

Because when this boy sang, something inside of Kurt opened. This boy sang because he longed for something more, he yearned to sing because something inside his heart knew that's where he belonged. Kurt would sneak into the room where Emily taught the hazel eyed boy, and would listen to him sing till he was told to leave, which was hardly ever. The hazel eyed boy liked letting Kurt hear him sing, anyways.

Because when this hazel eyed boy sang, he sang for freedom to sing all the time. He sang to open a part of him he didn't know was locked. This nine year old boy knew that's where his heart rested. In notes on sheets of paper that were meant to be expressed in another fashion. Not reading; not writing; but something that sounded like wind chimes, and bells, and trumpets, and a full choir singing in blessed harmony.

He longed to sing.

Kurt knew he could never sing like that boy. It never fazed him, though, because the boy was nice enough to never force Kurt to go away whenever Kurt sat in to watch the boy sing.

The day his mom died, Kurt knew that the hazel boy would be gone forever.

* * *

Kurt once walked through the park, mindlessly humming to himself. He heard another singing, softly. A boy, hazel eyed and curly hair, was sitting on a bench, singing to himself, a sad look in his eyes, a bruise on his face. Kurt turned his gaze away, feeling as if he was intruding on such an intimate moment, a boy with a song broken.

But his ears didn't stop listening, and when this boy sang, he sang for freedom. The words twisted Kurt's stomach, the melody so beautiful, so simple, tears pricked into Kurt's eyes. The voice was extraordinary, emotion laced so thickly, so perfectly, it'd take years to discover what he meant by the song, but you could still hear it none the less. Kurt quickened his pace, hands in pockets, as the boy sang for freedom yet unattained.

The hazel eyed boy watched the brunette pass him, and he kept on singing the fearful trill, his heart connected to notes, to soul, to a song yet unsung, for freedom not yet tasted.

For freedom still not yet acquired.

* * *

Kurt didn't recognize the hazel eyed boy the third time around. On the steps at a fancy school called Dalton, he met the hazel eyed boy yet again, curly hair in its place by thick gel. He holds Kurt's hand, and the Warblers, as well as Kurt, start to dance. When he opens his mouth to sing, however, Kurt doesn't get chills he once had before from him, though he isn't aware that this is the same boy.

When this boy sings, it feels like he's singing from a part of him that is already out there, already tasted. His notes soar in an open blue sky; he dances with such grace Kurt's heart melts a little. His eyes are expressive, a beautiful hazel color which Kurt loves. Kurt is mindlessly clapping at the end of it, smiling all the while.

When Blaine talks to him, Kurt feels the need to cry, and to sing like Blaine. Because when Blaine sings, he's so careful, so aware. So unfeeling almost, but so expressive at the same time. When Blaine sings, Kurt wants to sing to. Soon, unexpected things happen, and Kurt is soon singing with the Warblers, with his beloved Blaine.

Then, Kurt hears Blaine sing.

* * *

The day Blaine sings, Kurt knows this is the hazel eyed boy. The one on the bench; the one who was eight and let Kurt listen to him sing high and low, soft and loud, big and weak. When Kurt came into eh room, looking for sheet music, he found Blaine, singing in an empty room.

"_So I chose freedom, running around, trying everything new…"_ Blaine's voice fills the air, captivating Kurt's soul, trapping it. Kurt stopped what he was doing, if only to listen to Blaine sing that way once more, if only to let him hear him sing again. Blaine kept on singing, his heart and soul connected to the chords, his mind and body as free as the verses he was singing, the song unsung, and the track still playing.

The trill was there, the fear still in his voice. Kurt keeps listening to Blaine open his soul, to pour it into verses and words and songs and chords, and everything he has to offer is through his voice. Kurt closed his eyes, Blaine voice taking over him, slowly.

"_But nothing impressed me at all…"_ Blaine's voice grew quiet, soft, as if aware of a presence in the room. Kurt felt his breathing stop all together, still in a trance at Blaine's voice, the raw beauty of it.

When Blaine sang with the Warblers, it wasn't like this. That was the beauty, the perfection everyone wanted to see. When Blaine opened up his soul, chords and verses as one, Kurt felt emotion pull at his chest, his heart racing wildly, his toes curled with anticipation for the rest of the song he knew well.

Kurt knew why Blaine sang for freedom; He sang because once freedom was tasted, there was nothing to dream about freedom. When the bird was trapped, he knew not of what was going to happen, pattering around in his cage, taking precautions unknown. The Warblers clipped Blaine's wings, holding him close to the cage that he longed to open. And Blaine could only taste freedom through notes meant to be sung, not read, not written, but sung in a way of bells and wind chimes, of trumpets, and of a full choir in blessed harmony.

Kurt can feel himself clapping, ecstatically, as Blaine finished the song. Blaine looked at Kurt, before smiling; every beautiful, flawed part of Blaine showing brightly through opened cracks, cracks opened by notes and chords, and verses and songs unsung.

Kurt knows why the caged boy sings.


End file.
